Thieving Duplicity
by Pretty mediocre
Summary: A stray assassin betrayed and left for dead until fate changed everything... Reborn to entertain a bored God that sent him into a world of Heros and Villains, a place where things are split into black and white, can this gray assassin fit into this unusual world or cause chaos? editor : burymedeeper I do not own my hero
1. Quirks

Here will be a list of the Quirks Asura has it'll be updated when he gets a new quirk there will be sneak peaks into the quirks he gets later in the story

Thieving duplicity : Able to steal and give away quirks, also copy them and store them in a data bank able to freely use any amount of stolen quirks at a time but only a single copied quirk at a given time stolen/copied quirks of the same kind will be fused together

Copied quirks

Telekinesis - freely control any object up to 2 tons

Stolen quirks

Healing - able to use ambient energy to heal any injury

Mystic eyes - able to see in through any material less than 2 feet and see in a 360 angle


	2. Death (11-26 16:44:57)

"We are born free and we are free when we die, but in between, our freedom is held captive."

As I lay in a pond of blood and chunks of burnt flesh, I come to understand the meaning behind those words. My life was never my own... I got adopted by a kind looking old man, the type of man where, if you saw him, either sitting at a bench in a park or eating at a diner, you would quickly forget about him. Despite how kind he looked, that old man was the world's best assassin in the underground; Known for his infamous cruelty. The old man never had a name and neither did I, nor did we ever give each other names. Names were unnecessary since we understood each other with a single look. I spent my life training, traveling the world, and executing assassinations assigned to me by the old man.

It wasn't until I started watching anime that I had something else to do besides kill, but nothing in my life stays sane. While I was completing my last task, the assignment turned for the worst; the mark knew they were a target and had hired a bodyguard-- it was the old man.

"You shouldn't have tried to quit. I raised you as a killer, slaughtering thousands and bringing fear to millions," he muttered as he aimed his gun at me.

The instant he started firing, I managed to find some cover, but luck wasn't on my side. I got shot. Betrayed, and knowing I wasn't going to make it out alive, I chose to take that bastard down with me. I always carry around a pack of grenades, hidden beneath my oversized hoodie.

"You know, I've always seen you as a father. Despite how much of a bastard you are, you did raise me."

Hastily, I threw the pack.

BOOM

A devastating explosion burst throughout the crowded room. Flung across the room, I groaned in pain. My lower torso detached, I heavily bleed out. Quickly losing consciousness, my vision darkened. Whatever strength I had left dissipated into thin air as death approached me. Then, I saw nothing.


	3. Existential

Eyes opening to only the ever veiling darkness, I try to move my limbs but feel nothing. It's like my senses are gone. Numb, I couldn't tell if I was standing or laying down, but I could feel a sense of weightlessness. As I settle into the feeling, I hear a deep, smooth baritone voice. One which spoke of eternal power.

"Greetings mortal."

Suddenly, I'm assaulted by a myriad of colors. Extreme in all its brightness until finally, it all settles to a dim white. I blink away the black spots which mar my vision to see a shadowed figure standing in the center of this white space, their appearance obscured by the light. Confused, I rack up my mind for answers about where I am, what is my situation, who is that, and why am I alive and how? Seeing as I couldn't gain anything from keeping silence, I stutter.

"Who- who are you?"

The strength in his tone alone towers over my mere being as it empowers the mightiness of his presence. "I am simply the ruler of universes. I keep track of existence; I organize time, I handle catastrophes and I grant miracles, I design every particle to every construct, I hear praises but don't partake... To humanity, I am the one known as God. Although I have no name, you may refer to me as such."

As his words register within my addled mind, my eyes widen in awe, shining like polished marble. I work my jaw to say something, anything to make sense of the where and why. "Shouldn't I be in hell, burning for my countless sins? I've run over the law by choice and ruled over the weak as if almighty. How should I repent for my crimes if not by damning flame? How am I alive when I've seen my lower torso blown to bits?"

There's a lengthy pause, nerve-wracking and anxious. Then, God questions I, and what questions they are.

"Why do you believe you deserve tortuous punishment? Don't you humans fear pain? Why wish to suffer if you don't need to suffer at all?"

His introspection eludes me. Dare I ask myself these questions? For God is correct. It's only logical to avoid pain, then, why do I seek it? Is it guilt? I knew I was never able to cut myself apart from my emotions but to actually feel any state other than indifference? This trip is continuing to throw me through several puzzles of mind. I'm amazed.

"I believe it is guilt. I wish to offer myself as compensation, for I can't repair what I've broken."

"I see. Then, perhaps you could do away your misdeeds by fulfilling my need for entertainment? As I am of boredom, you will be playing as a wildcard for my pure amusement. In regard to your other questions... Why would I care about human laws? There's evil in the world but not all is clear. Neither just or unjust exist nor can they be contained by enforcing written laws. Tragic is when I see my creations suffer, wilting in agony as life is harsh, but what's done can't change. There are no replays nor revisions in life." His voice strengthens as his speech lengthens-- Authority ringing through his echoing words. God's reign presenting itself evermore than before, he continues.

"Your self-proclaimed sins are merely your views on injustice and the right. Those aren't the thoughts of I. I, the foreseer of every plane in existence. I, as the ruler of all, I who witnessed all, I who destroyed the departed, I who created the living. The answer to your current availability of physicality is I. As I am God, naturally, I can grant your soul a new body as easily as you breathe air. In fact, keeping your soul with every memory intact was the hardest part of the process."

And it truly was a new body. Gone are the familiar features I have grown seeing in passing mirrors and off-chance glances at my reflection. Gone are the tellings of my life's hard labor. Tough callous nowhere to have felt and muscles that of an average civilian. Not solely new, but different as well. It's not the body I was born with nor the one I died with. I maintain the memories I've made before death and yet... Who am I?

I must've asked such a question aloud because God patiently resolved my inner turmoil.

"You, are a new man in a body fit for this particular universe you'll be transferring to. It's a place which notably differs from your modern society of ordinary earthlings. Names, especially in this world, are important. It's a shame you haven't a name beforehand. Hence, why I shall bestow one upon you. In this alternate world, there are heroes and villains, aliases and birth names. What shall be your differing titles?"

"... I don't care for names as I haven't ever needed one, but if I must, know me as solely, Asura. Anything more would be too complicated for me to remember."

"How reasonable of you... very well then. For this new world, and to cement your new life, I grant you the name Asura. May luck be with you as I'll be watching, but of no help to your person."

God raises his arms, the light encasing them as it glows ever brighter and brighter and brighter and glowing so bright I can no longer see! Blinded by the intensity, I close my eyes. During that moment, the nonexistent floor below me shifts, and before I know it, I'm falling through an endless-seeming void. Darkness envelops me, yet again.


	4. Rebirth

My name is Asura. I'm two years-old with ruggish black hair and pale skin. The adults love my eyes, cooing about how they're the picturesque of a marble night sky and twinkling white stars. I've been living in an orphanage since birth, catered to by the same few caretakers who work here.

While listening to their chatter I've made some startling discoveries. In this world, about 80% of people worldwide have special, individual abilities called "quirks". Quirks develop in youth, mostly around the age of 4 and are genetically inherited.

Since I'm more mentally developed I've already awakened my quirk. I have the ability to steal quirks and give them away, and I can copy them. The problem is, I can only use one copied quirk at a time. It sounds limiting, but really I'm able to switch between previously copied quirks -a process equivalent to changing channels- so it's a fair trade. Every quirk I've fully copied is stored in my body's data banks, and I'm allowed to use any of them at anytime as long as it's one at a time. Stealing quirks is a different issue. I can use multiple stolen quirks at a time with practically no limit on how many quirks I can use at once.

From the time of I've gained my quirk, I've been hiding it because in the orphanage, no one my age has awakened theirs yet and I don't want to stand out. That doesn't mean I haven't used it at all.

There was a matron of the orphanage who was an awful and rude woman. She was very crude and a bitch to her core. She was sly, and abusive. When she worked here, us kids were simply stress-relieving toys who didn't matter. She'd beat us defenceless kids until our skin was painted by ugly, dark bruises. If we cried to the point of our eyes burning red and our faces are covered in snot and drool, she wouldn't care. They were painful fifteen-minute sessions and whenever she got her sadistic fill, she'd use her quirk to heal us. Ridding of any evidence linking to her hellish ways.

I've heard a few years back she used to work for a hospital and got fired for malpractice. Then, she started working at the orphanage. The first time she grappled me into her torture chamber, the basement closet, I've already witnessed and assessed the other beaten kids, and have hatched a plan. While she was beating me, I kept my ankle in contact with hers and stole her quirk. So when she finished with a relieved sigh, she tried to use her healing quirk only to find it didn't work. Unknown to her, she was quirkless.

As the relief quickly turned into anger, then flipped to panic, her face paled and she began cursing up a storm. "What the fuck?! Why isn't my quirk working!?"

"Fucking work. Fucking. Work. FUCKING. WORK!" She chanted, shouting louder with each word until she was screaming at the top of her lungs, shaking me like a ragdoll all the while.

The other caretakers noticed her yells and started banging on the door, trying to break it open as they thought she might've been in need of help. Oh, how wrong they were. Not far off though, as the victim wasn't the matron but the villain, and us kids the true casualties.

As the door finally gave in, they ran in only to immediately stop, wildly looking at the scene they've come by. They were shocked into place, seeing a horribly injured child laying on the ground black and blue as the matron stood above said child, eyes boggling like a madman, jaw tight and skin wrinkled across her frowning face.

The police ended up taking her away. As she was being led out by the officers she turned around and glared at me, observed the way I was slowly healing myself as if mocking her, and all I could do was smile.


	5. Showing Off

Every year the orphanage brings in a doctor to check in on the kids and to gather information on any new quirks so they'll be registered into the system. The kids who've awakened their quirks are overflowing with joy and excitement. On the other hand, the kids who have yet to awaken their quirks are anxious, frightened of the future. After all, who wants to end up staying quirkless?

As it became my turn to show the doctor my quirk, I solely show him my copying ability. "My quirk let's me copy other quirks. I can only copy one at a time, but I can keep them, any quirk I've copied before stored in my internal data bank, allowing me to switch between my stored quirks."

I look up and inquire about his quirk. He looks at me in surprise. I'm not sure if it's because of the immense knowledge of my quirk or how I've asked him about his own. He soon gets over his shock and chuckles at my curiosity.

"My quirk can interact with light to mid-weight objects. I can drag them around or have them float about without moving a muscle." As he explains his quirk, he lets go of his clipboard, making it float.

I feign shock, but truly, the possible uses for his quirk astound me. "Woah! So cool!" He looks at me, amusement dancing along his eyes, smiling so wide his teeth showed. "It's called 'Telekinesis' and if I were to train it further, I might even be able to move heavier objects."

"I wanna try! I wanna try!" I jump up and down to exaggerate my excitement. I still and hold my hand out towards the doctor. Confused but deciding to amuse me, he places his hand over mine. Grabbing his hand and copying his telekinesis, I let go and start making things float around us.

"Haha, this is fun!"

He looks at me in wonder, "How did you do that, young man?"

Releasing the quirk I stand proud with my hands on my hips and head upturned with the widest grin I could muster, I answer. "Simple, I used my quirk to copy yours!"

Later on, in our shared room, I start practicing my Telekinesis. I test out lifting small to medium sized objects: tossing them about, spinning them, making them fly around me... the other kids gather around to watch with awe sparkling in their eyes.

"Wow, that's so cool!"

"What else can you make float?"

I begin lifting heavier things, such as: our beds, the wardrobes, a pile of covers. I was setting down a wardrobe when I heard a kid hesitantly make a request. I look over to see a little boy nervous yet eagerly at the edge of his wheelchair, looking about to jump up. "Can you… can you lift me too?" I stare at him in thought for a while, letting him feel shyer by the second. Then, I finally give him a gentle smile. "Let me try."

I slowly lift him off of his chair, helping him stand as I hold his body with my quirk. He starts crying, "I've always wanted to stand up even if temporarily, thank you. Thank you!" I simply nod at him.

I walk out of the orphanage and continue testing out my new quirk, lifting larger and heavier things until I can't anymore. My limit goes as far as the weight of a car as high as 4ft. off the ground and 12ft. away from myself, and the size of a billboard as high as 6ft. and as far as 8ft.

Strolling through the city, I see a superhero movie playing on a selling TV when an idea hits me. I think, 'If I can lift up other kids, can't I lift myself?' As I try out this out, I levitate higher and higher, carefully pushing myself forwards and back, and side-to-side. I began laughing in joyful disbelief. "I can- hah, I can fly, I-... I CAN FLY! Haha!" Shouting, I soar through the sky, basking in what feels like pure freedom. It feels so liberating! Gliding high enough to see the city or low enough to skim across grass. Not much people to crowd the air, not when I only have to avoid structures and passing birds.

As I'm flying through a quiet neighborhood, I come across a park and see a couple of kids surrounding a green-haired boy who's protecting another skittish boy behind him. The green-haired boy is quivering but standing tall, fists raised in a pseudo fighting stance and shouting at the three bully-seeming kids. The blonde brat, presumably the leader, takes a menacing step forward as the other two follow his lead (one of the two kids flying closer as he flaps his red dragon-like wings). Next thing I know, all three brats are running towards the green-haired boy. As the bullies ascend, the cowering brunette who was being protected runs off, leaving his savior behind. The bratty gang proceed to beat up the green-haired boy, and when they finish, they notice the little brunette is long gone. Bored and no longer interested, the bratty gang walks away, leaving the green-haired boy bruised and whimpering on the grainy dirt.

Once the bratty gang leave far out of sight, I descend to the ground and jog over to the beaten boy, checking if he's alright. "Hey, are you alright? They beat you up pretty badly." He startles, snapping his head up to look at me in surprise with wary green eyes before nervously looking elsewhere. After a couple of patient seconds, the kid hesitatingly responds. "I-I'm al-alright. Th-they're only a c-couple of scratches... and a few bruises." I look at him, doubtful but understanding when I remember something.

"Hey, you why didn't you use your quirk to fight back? It was three against and one of the brats had wings, using your quirk in defense no less would've been fair game."

His eyes water, "I can't, I-I'm quh-quir-quirkleh-less." He stuttered horribly as his mouth quivers and tears start rolling down his cheek.

"Okay, but quirkless people can fight back too." I say, determination flaming to encourage this beaten kid.

"What do you mean quirkless people can fight back? Not against people with quirks, they're too strong, and they have the advantage!"

I laugh, "You're really dumb!" He flinches, scooting a bit aways in preparation to flee. "Relax, I'm not going to hurt you~" I walk closer, holding out my hand to help him up to his feet. He takes it.

"I mean, you must be blind to not see it, kid. Quirkless or not, you have the strength to train and the determination to work harder than those with quirks. One needs not words but actions. The quirkless kids at my orphanage sometimes fight the kids with quirks. And they win! It's really fun, seeing them fight~! You shouldn't underestimate the quirkless, including yourself… You should visit the orphanage, you'll see what I'm talking about if you do." I levitate, "Oh, and if you visit, ask the desk caretaker for me and she'll guide you to wherever I'm at. The name's Asura." Then, I fly away, not waiting to hear his name.

The boy's POV

Ever since I found out I'm quirkless, everyone has been treating me differently. My best friend started being really mean to me. He called everyone else extras but called me by my first name, now he and only him (Otherwise, he'll yell at others who try to shut up, I'm his prey.), calls me Deku, for 'useless'. Today, he was roughing up a kid who had a weak quirk. "That's mean, Kacchan... Can't you see he's crying. If you keep going I-I-I'll never forgive you!" I mumble, shouting near the end.

"Even though you're quirkless… you're pretending to be a hero, Deku."

They run towards me Kacchan and his friends start beating me up. After awhile, they get bored and walk away as I lay there in pain. Suddenly, a boy comes up to me. His eyes an enchanting pattern, orbs a blue so dark they're nearly black, and painted with scattered white stars. They aren't sparkly or shiny, no, there were literal stars twinkling in his eyes, ethereal in how they look like the night sky. As he looks at me with those beautiful eyes, he speaks up.

"Hey, are you alright? They beat you up pretty badly." Startling me back into reality, I stop staring into his eyes, focusing on the several shades of grain in the dirt.

"I-I'm al-alright. Th-they're only a c-couple of scratches... and a few bruises." I glance at him, only to look away once again.

"Hey, you why didn't you use your quirk to fight back? It was three against and one of the brats had wings, using your quirk in defense no less would've been fair game."

My eyes water as I stutter out how I'm quirkless, mouth quivering and tears overflowing as I try so hard not to cry. Expecting for him to abruptly sneer and spit at my feet, cursing how I'm useless without a quirk… It threw me further off guard when he didn't react disgusted at all.

"Okay, but quirkless people can fight back too." He says, tone encouraging yet nonchalant.

"What do you mean quirkless people can fight back? Not against people with quirks, they're too strong, and they have the advantage!"

He laughs, a hearty laugh from his chest as if he's a grown man who's heard the greatest joke ever. He notices me flinching back and walks closer, holding out his hand to help me up... Bewildered, I take his hand.

He drags me up and begins telling me his perspective, how the kids at his orphanage don't let them being quirkless stop them from winning fights of seemingly-impossible chances. He invites to visit sometime and levitates, "Oh, and if you visit, ask the desk caretaker for me and she'll guide you to wherever I'm at. The name's Asura." Then, he flies away before I could tell him my name.


	6. Blue Hills

The a few days later, the green-haired boy comes to visit me. I was warming up my healing quirk when one of the caretakers approach and tell me I have a visitor. I fix up my appearance and follow them to the front desk only to find the curly green-haired boy fidgeting where he stands slightly behind a slim, green-haired woman who I assume is his mother.

"G-good afternoon, Asura. I-I'm Midoriya I-Izuku. I wasn't a-able to introduce myself the o-other day." Izuku greatly stuttered. He then steps out from hiding behind his mother and waves a hand to drag my attention to her. "A-and this is my Kaa-chan, M-Midoriya Inko." She bows her head a little and greets me with a smile, "Hello there, Asura. It's a pleasure to meet you~"

I blink, I didn't think he would take up the offer to visit and so soon. I take in the sight of the quaint woman, Midoriya Inko, and her skittish son. Midoriya Izuku, huh. He's a pretty good kid. Brave, yet overwhelmingly anxious. I bet he's here to check out the other quirkless kids, not that I blame him. "Yo, I see you actually came to visit! Are you here to observe the quirkless kids?

He nods, gulping as he affirms this aloud, "Y-yes, I… I want to see them, please."

I motion for them to follow me, leaving behind the caretaker to continue working at the front desk as we enter the orphanage's main room, the Main Hall. I bring us to a gathering in the first corner to our right. There, is a low coffee table, with a mini flower pot of gardenias placed atop, and surrounded by worn out plush couches. As we sit down, I point to a group of plain looking kids huddling together in the far left corner.

Izuku looks at me questioningly, "W-what are they doing?"

I stare at the kids for a bit, then glance back at Izuku. "They're planning to raid a group of quirk-kids for food since it's lunchtime." Midoriya-san startles, looking scandalous at what I've just said and panics. "What do you mean by 'raiding'?! Don't you all get enough food as it is?" I keep quiet for a while, thinking over my answer before turning my attention to the bands of kids. In a smooth voice, I speak clear and strong despite the morbid subject and saddening words leaving my pale lips.

"Other than a few of the older kids and I, everyone else group together in order for a higher chance of having a successful raid. Raids, are when they, in their separate groupings, look for food and clothing to share between themselves as without begging or scavenging for more, we'd barely survive by the day. Usually, it's easier for us to steal. Whether from stores or other groups. In the first place, we only resort to such when there isn't enough for our current needs. The orphanage doesn't get enough donations as it is and to make matters worse, there's a lot more orphans here than any other orphanage within the city. We happen to be have bad circumstances through the worse side of luck. Well, I'm better off than the other kids. My quirk is of good use and not to mention, I'm capable of living on the barest of necessities without much problem. I'm alright with the limited portions they provide us."

Midoriya-san looks shocked, her wide eyes staring at me in a new light as they're filled with worry. "That's wrong! Aren't the staff supposed to help and pitch in for you kids to live comfortably? They're in charge of taking care of you kids." I continue to watch as the kids spread out and nod in sync, seeming to have come to an agreement in executing their planned raid. "They care for the babies more so than us. In their books, if you're old enough to comprehend your situation, you're old enough to take care of yourself. Other than making sure none of us have died yet, they really don't care enough. As for our food, we're always served the same cold gruel for every meal. The shi- ahem, that nasty dish tastes like wet cardboard, and now that I think about it, it might actually be soaked cardboard. Our clothes have more holes than we can fix or cover. We receive them as old, worn thin, and they rip as easy as being caught on a twig for them to tear."

This the group of quirkless kids, the self-proclaiming Ruffians, run toward a group of quirk-kids, the insulted Trash-Heaps. "We have to stop them." whispers Izuku as his mother is ready to break apart their brawl, causing me to sigh.

"Midoriya-san, I wouldn't even do that now, forget trying if I were you."

"...Why not?"

I turn away from the brawl to look at her in my peripheral vision. "Some of the other quirk-kids benefit from these brawls on the sidelines, including myself, and most of the kids who don't belong to either group get to join the winners in eating food because of our remaining sympathy."

"Mom… the quirkless kids are winning." whispers Izuku in astonishment, just loud enough for his mother to hear and turn back to observe the fight as I do the same. The raid a success, the Ruffians take their spoils, passing them around to practically everyone but the Trash-Heaps when one of the kids shout in our direction.

"Hey, Asura! I know compared to us yer rich n' all, but I'll pay ya to come over n' heal us injured." I give him a look without saying a word. He starts to sweat a little and nervously chuckles, "Haha~ Sorry, sorry! I know, manners yeah?... Asura, can ya please heal us?" I give him my classic smile. "I will. You know my price." He sighs in relief, a bit thankful. "Ain't no one mess with ya, Asura. I ain't have enough for the usual, so name a different price... Please."

"Hmm… Feel grateful, Richie. I'll heal you all free-of-charge just this once."

Richie bows toward me, and by his eyes narrow in acceptance yet soft, I could tell he truly feels grateful for me letting them go so easy, and that he knows I fully intend to keep this promise of no charge. I walk over to the gathered Ruffians and begin healing the worse of their injuries. There wasn't much to heal as nothing too serious happened around this time. Finishing up, I casually stroll on back to my guests.

"Asura, why do you only heal the others when they offer to pay? Why doesn't anyone mess with you? What's your quirk? I've seen you fly -or is it levitation?- and you can heal too, is it a dual quirk?" Izuku was rapid-firing questions under his breath, muttering so quickly I can barely catch them. I look incredulously towards Midoriya-san, bewilderment plastering my face, to which she just gives me a helpless smile.

"He always gets like this once his attention falls on something intriguing."

I tap Izuku's shoulder, "Slow down and take a breath, Izuku. Otherwise, you'll choke." Slowing down his rambling, Izuku eventually stops and gulps in air like a panting dog. "Oh-okay. Okay, okay... okay. May I please ask about your quirk, Asura?" Izuku's eyes glow with fascination.

No harm in answering the excitable kid's questions. "You may."

Izuku looks up at me with puppy-dog eyes shimmering large and rounded. "Then, please?"

I sigh, I was going to answer him anyway but damn if I'm not weak to those puppy-dog eyes! "My quirk allows me to copy other's quirks and will store them like a personal hard-drive. Because of this, I can easily switch between any previous copies; So far I have healing and telekinesis. The day we met was when I first copied telekinesis from a visiting doctor. I was testing it out to check my limits and see what I can do with it."

Izuku looks absolutely stunned at the prospect of my quirk or how quick I seemed to have integrated the telekinesis as my own. On the other hand, his mother takes it in stride, saying how she too has telekinesis but to a smaller extent, only capable of levitating small objects about. Actually, I wonder what would happen if I copied different variations of the same quirk... Wanting to test my theory I hold out my hand and ask if I can copy her quirk.

She looks at me with calculating eyes, "Why do you want to copy a quirk you already have?"

"I want to test an idea that might work, see if copying a similar quirk affects the one I've already copied."

"Hmm… Alright, I don't see why not."

With permission granted, I grab her hand and copy her version of telekinesis. After copying I slightly pull back, feeling an inner shift of my quirk. "So, what happened? Are you okay? It didn't backfire did it?" Midoriya-san worries heavily, frightened I may have been hurt. Izuku, returned from his fanatical thinking, stares at us with a sparkle in his eyes. "Did anything happen? Oh! What if they collided and rejected each other! Did one of them survive?!"

Blinking, I tune back into the reality and lightly explain the difference in my ability. "It seems my telekinesis ability got strengthened." I'm standing in shock, finally processing the strengthening of my telekinesis. And it seems I'm not the only one as Izuku is mumbling again, theorizing about how I can endlessly improve the quirks I have by finding similar works and his mother is nodding along to his observations. This makes me look at him in a different light. Izuku is amazing! We're both the same physical age, but he's a lot more analytical than any kid here, and compared to myself being way older mentality wise, I wasn't that great of a thinker at his age.

Later on, we start playing tag and other games with an intermix of the kids' factions. After all, the quirk-kids might be brute thieves but they are still kids first. By a certain logic, I guess I'm still a kid too. Huh, go figure.

Izuku eventually grows closer to some of the orphans, making his mom smile in joyful relief. "You should stop worrying so much, frowning will cause wrinkles." Midoriya-san looks to me in bafflement. In turn, I look directly into her sage-green eyes, "You need to smile more often, you look beautiful when you smile." I pay my attention to kids, ignoring the flushed mother beside me.

After Izuku tires, he and his mother head home for the night. I stroll into my room, ready to fall asleep on my feet. Man, kids' bodies can't stand so much in one day. I reach my futon and knock out cold, drifting through memories of my assassin training up 'til the day I died…


End file.
